Please Don't Die— Signed, Granger
by Warriorcatlover1215
Summary: Hermione Granger, 5 years after the war, is abandoned by her boyfriend, Ron. Heartbroken, homeless, abused, and desperate, she seeks refuge in Andromeda Tonks. But Andromeda has other ideas for where the girl could live, and it might just involve Andromeda's broken nephew, and the idea might very well save both of their lives.
1. Chapter 1

Hey guys! 'Don't die — Signed, Granger.' Is my new Dramione fanfiction. It will contain mentions and scenes of the following: abuse, suicide, smut. If you do not like that, do not read.

I hope you guys like it. I know this chapter is pretty short, but I wanted to get it out there as a starting point. There are phones and computers and GASP technology. But still magic, still Hogwarts, still the War, Ect. I know some of you like it without it, but...

Also, HLDL is cancelled, unless you guys want me to bring it back. Rate, review, follow and let me know if go want HLDL back!

Warnings: Drunk, abuse. self Beta'd, i do not own Harry Potter.

~•~

"Get out!"

The roar was sudden, almost as sudden as the glass bottle thrown at the wall.

Hermione didn't cower, she didn't hide or run in fear. She held her wand steady, staring defiantly at her drunk boyfriend. "Ron," she pleaded, tears running down her bleeding face.

Eyes glittering with drunken rage, Ron stepped forward, and ripped her wand away from her. She lunged, screeching, but within a second he had snapped her wand in half.

She paused, gasping, tears streaming. Her snapped wand fell to the dark colored rug with a soft thud, and she felt her heart clench. The wand she had gotten at only eleven years old. The wand she had fought Death Eaters and Dementors and so many other horrid dark creatures with. The wand that had been a part of her for so many years.

She felt as if a part of her had been torn out and shredded before her. Slowly, she dragged her gaze from the shattered wand, to her boyfriends enraged face. "Why?" She whispered, her voice trembling. "Ron, I love you, please..."

"Get. Out," his hand came down violently across her cheek, earning a sob from Hermione. He snatched her clothes furiously, dragging her to the door. She screeched and thrashed and yelled, but his iron grip didn't cease. He flung open the door, and shoved her out onto the pavement ruthlessly. And with that, he slammed the door shut, the sound of a lock coming seconds later.

Hermione fell to her knees on the wet pavement, rain furiously battering her. To say a sob was ripped from her throat would be a understatement.

She sat there for many moments, crying until she couldn't no more. She wiped tears, rain water, and blood from her face, rising to her shaking feet.

She was Hermione Jean Granger, brightest with of her age. She might be heartbroken, wounded, wandless and homeless, but she would not break to someone's ruthless behavior. On trembling legs, she set off into the pouring rain, to the only place she could think of within a walking distance.

~•~

It was still dark, pouring harder then ever. Clothes torn, limping, breathing ragged, Hermione raised a hand and knocked on the door. She didn't know how late it was, her phone dead. She knocked again, and suddenly lights flickered on inside the flat, and several moments later the door opened, a dark-haired woman with a wand in hand behind it.

The woman gasped audibly. "Hermione! Oh, dear, oh goodness, my child what happened? Come inside, come in! It's pouring out." She herded Hermione inside, shutting the door quickly.

"T-thanks, Andromeda," Hermione's voice chattered when she spoke, hugging herself tightly.

"What happened to you?" Andromeda demanded, looking horrifyingly like Bellatrix when she crossed her arms, raising her head.

"N-nothing...nothing." Hermione managed, favoring her right leg.

"Hermione Jean Granger!" Andromeda snapped. "What in Rowena's good name happened to you?"

Hermione shuddered, and suddenly broke down. She looked up at Andromeda, tears now streaming down her face. "I can't tell you, I can't, I can't...please...Andromeda, please."

Andromeda paused, her brows furrowing. "Oh goodness, dear, come on now. Lets get you some tea, a warm shower and I'll treat your wounds. You don't have to tell me right now, but I DO want a answer." She murmured, herding Hermione up the stairs, helping her up gently.

"T-thank you...t-thank you...thank you..."

~•~

A full day had passed since that night. Hermione managed to tell Andromeda enough for the witch to piece together, and now Andromeda was in a outrage.

"What in Merlin's name else did he do to you, Hermione?! Tell me, now! I need to know EVERYTHING before I go to the Ministry!" Andromeda snarled, Teddy in one arm, who somehow seemed unaffected.

_No, no, no, no, no. _Hermione curled into herself, ignoring the pain as tears streamed down her face. She couldn't pull herself together...she was Hermione Jean Granger, she had to!

"No, no, no!" Hermione sobbed, "no Ministry, no Ministry...please...please no!"

"Hermione, look at you! He injured you, he abused you! I need to know what happened, everything!"

Hermione just cowered, keeping her head low.

Andromeda sighed, and at that moment her phone rung sharply. "Hold Teddy," she ordered Hermione, handing her Teddy, and in turn Hermione cradled the toddler in her arms.

She answered the phone quickly. "Hello?"

Hermione couldn't hear what the person on the other side said, but narrowed her eyes nonetheless.

"Alissa Piers? Why in Rowena's name would you, of all people, call me?"

The response on the other end was muffled, but the shock on Andromeda's face, and how quickly she went rigid as a board told Hermione something horrid had happened.

"He did _what_?" Andromeda's voice dropped to a breathless whisper. A muffled response. "He's...he's...alive...right?"

Andromeda's shoulders slumped with seemingly relief. "Oh thank Merlin. I don't know what I would do if my sister's child died.."

Hermione's brows furrowed even further. Sisters child...Andromeda's sister were Bellatrix Lestrange and Narcissa Malfoy...and only one of them had a child...

Hermione huffed. Malfoy almost got killed? By what, she wondered? Not that she cared about Malfoy.

"Thank you, Alissa. Yes, yes, I'll be there shortly." Andromeda ended the call, and shoved her phone into her pocket. "I have to go see my nephew in the hospital, Hermione. I will also be going to the Ministry to press charges against Ronald Weasley. I know you're injured, I know you're weak, and tired and heartbroken, and I won't leave you here alone. I'll floo Ginny."

And Andromeda went into the other room to floo the Weasley's.

Hermione cradled Teddy gently to her chest, wincing as pain flashed through her back where whip marks resided. So Malfoy was injured. Huh. And Andromeda was going to go to the Ministry, whether Hermione liked it or not. Fuck. And Ginny was coming over. Also fuck. Hermione leaned against the couch, Teddy giving a soft whimper in his sleep.

"Oh, Teddy." She whispered. "What am I going to do?"

~•~

Andromeda's heels clicked loudly on the hard floor of Saint Mungo's, where she glided through the mostly empty halls in search of the room her nephew resided. She knocked, hearing a voice beckon her in she slipped inside. There was a noisy, anxious chatter, and a brunet, Alissa Piers, hurried over to her.

"What happened?" Andromeda demanded.

"Oh, thank Merlin you are here...I went to his Manor, because he wasn't answering my calls...Andromeda, he **destroyed **himself. If I hadn't gotten there much later he would have died." Alissa hurriedly told her what happened, leading her over to the bed.

He, in all his pale, sharp, aristocratic beauty, lay unconscious on the bed. On his lower neck she could see small scars, healed wounds were a blade that he had held had cut the pale, delicate skin.

Andromeda, always a kind, but stiff and sharp-tongued woman, caved at the sight of her nephew. His face was horribly gaunt and he looked _so thin_ underneath the light covers. Her breath hitched, and she glanced at the doctor. "He'll...he'll be alright, though...right?"

"Physically, ma'am, yes. Mentally? I cannot say. He's been through so much trauma and abuse, he isn't mentally stable at all. Mrs. Tonks, ma'am, this is the third time that he's tried to do this. He cannot stay alone, he needs someone to stay with him or I'm afraid he might try and he might succeed." The doctors brows were furrowed with worry, her gaze flicking to the patient.

Andromeda sunk into the chair beside the bed, frowning. "Who would have thought?" She mused softly. "I might have a idea to help him."


	2. Chapter 2

Hi guys!

Holy fuck, thank you for the reviews and follows! I know this isn't the longest chapter, but I'm trying to get back into writing again.

Thank you, you guys! Review and follow!

~•~

"Are you going to tell me exactly what happened between you and my brother, so I can hex him into oblivion?"

The fire crackled softly, Teddy sitting in front of it, playing with Crookshanks excitedly. That morning Andromeda had collected Hermione's stuff, including Crookshanks.

Hermione and Ginny sat crosslegged on the floor, Ginny using healing spells over the long, red, bleeding whip marks across her back. Ginny hadn't said a word until now, but Hermione had felt the fury radiating off of her.

"No." Came Hermione's murmur. _Never ever._

"You realize if you don't, I'm still going to hex him into oblivion?"

"Ginny."

"'Ginny' what?" Her reply was scathing.

"It wasn't him that did it."

"Oh that is the biggest load of bullshit I've ever heard. You are Hermione Jean Granger, if it had been a Werewolf, random loose Deatheater, or anything of the sort, you would have gotten rid of them instantly. Ronald is the only person you wouldn't even _dream_ about hurting." Ginny leaned forward so she was whispering in her ear.

Hermione pulled the shirt over her head, shifting to face Ginny. "It wasn't him!"

"Then who the fuck was it?!" Ginny threw her hands down, wand rolling away. Her amber eyes blazed, lit by the burning fire. "I know you! You would admit who hurt you, even if they threatened death, but instead, you're sitting here, _lying to me_!"

Hermione ducked her head, hugging herself tightly. "Ginny, please...please...I don't want to talk about it." She whispered.

"I don't understand, 'Mione. I just don't."

The fire flared green suddenly, and Andromeda stepped through, easily avoiding Teddy and Crookshanks. "I have reported to Kingsley about Ronald Weasley's abuse and use of dark spells. He has been taken into custody by the Ministry."

Hermione's eyes went wide suddenly. "No...no...no! Andromeda, no!Why?! I told you not to!" She struggled to her feet, gaspin for air.

"He will have a hearing soon. Thank you, Ginny dear, for staying with Hermione. Do stay for dinner?" Andromeda dismissed the topic at hand, looking at Ginny.

"Oh, Mrs. Tonks, I wouldn't want to make extra work for you, thank you though."

"Please call me Andromeda, dear, and it's no problem at all." Andromeda smiled, sweeping into the kitchen.

Hermione sank to her knees, shuddering. Teddy crawled over to her, blinking. "Her-me-own-e? What's wong?"

"Oh, Teddy. Nothing, love, nothing that involes you."

"So," Hermione sat on the couch after Ginny left, refusing to talk about Ron, and refusing to believe Andromeda actually did that, watching Andromeda pace. "What happened to the ferret?"

Andromeda ceased her pacing, her head riveting around to pin a garnet stare on Hermione. "What?"

" 'I don't know what I would do if my sister's son died.' I'm assuming Bellatrix didn't have a child, so, what happened to Malfoy?"

Andromeda stiffened, acut wariness in her eyes. "He just got hurt, Hermione."

"And he got hurt enough to almost die? How?" Hermione, though injured, wasn't going to back down from this.

"Stray Deatheater. Attacked him." Andromeda stated simply.

"Stray Deatheater? I mean, I still hate Malfoy, but he was a powerful wizard when I knew him in school. How did a Deatheater managed to get the best of him?" Hermione could sense she was lying. It radiated off of her in thick waves.

"Cutting curse."

"Mhm, lovely story. What really happened?"

"Hermione, I need your help." Andromeda turned from frantic to pleading.

"I came here because I was homeless, not to be your therapist!"

"What did Ginny give you child?!"

"No clue but I feel _great."_

Andromeda looked up at the ceiling, her hands closing into tight fists. "I really, really hope she didn't find that Pepper-Up potion..."

"Why? What's wrong with it?"

She heaved a sigh. "Nothing. Hermione, there's something I need to ask you."

"I'm listening, but not hearing."

Andromeda rolled her eyes, sitting down next to her. "Draco is...very reckless. He gets hurt easily. He keeps himself shut up in the Manor all the time. You, Hermione, are very level-headed and smart. And homeless. I'm sure Draco would let you use one of the rooms in the manor," she muttered something under her breath, sounding like 'if he doesn't I'll hex him into oblivion.' "And you can keep him under control."

Hermione blinked, then threw back her head and laughed. "Priceless joke, Andromeda!"

"I'm serious!"

Hermione stopped, staring at her. "_You,_ want _me, to live with The Ferret?!"_

She nodded. "Yes, Hermione, I do. Please, for me! He's going to go insane in there by himself!"

"Fuck that! I am NOT living with the Ferret! No way in hell!"

"You best mind to watch your language, young lady!" Andromeda snapped.

"What do you expect me to do?! You're asking me to live with the enemy!" Hermione drew her legs to her chest, glaring at her.

"He isn't the enemy. He threw Harry his wand, remember? Besides, Hermione, he's no threat now. He wants to make peace with you guys."

"Oh yes, _Malfoy _wants to make peace with us." She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. "Why can't he take care of himself? I'm not going to be his lifesaver or maid, if that' what you are thinking."

"Hermione, for God's sake, child! Can't you just think about it?"

"Sure, sure, I'll think about it. Defintaly. One hundred percent. Night, Andromeda."

~•~•~

When you lived in a place with ceilings at tall as skyscrapers and memories etched in the walls, and all of your family and your so called 'friends' have either died or betrayed you, wouldn't you want to die as well?

He raised a pale hand, skeletal fingers delicately tracing the walls. Paint chipped off, sharp shards making small cuts in his fingers, blood welling slightly. A twisted smile played at his lips as he drew his hand back, watching a small bead of crimson liquid snake down his fingers.

He drew his hand back, and suddenly jumped as a knock echoed through the downstairs. Panic gripped his chest, his heart instantly ramming against his ribs, frantic. He grabbed his wand from his dresser, rolling the wood in his hands, and slowly opened his bedroom door.

Breathing raggedly, he trotted down the stairs, pausing to look up at the raven that circled in the ceiling above. It flew down when it saw him, landing on the stairrail, and pinning a beady black gaze on him. Then another, louder, knock echoed, and he flinched violently. He trotted down the steps quickly, and slowly unbolted the door. Wand in hand, he opened it. A woman, with a mass of wild, midnight curls and sharp garnet eyes met him. She was very aristocratic, sharp cheek-boned and strong jawed. He jumped, wand lashing out. _Bellatrix!_

But she merely smiled. "Hello, Draco."

Wouldn't you want to die too?


	3. Chapter 3

I'm trying to write longer chapters, I promise!

Also, for the person who reviewed just to make fun of my spelling: English is my second language. I'm trying, but I'm not perfect. Please do not make fun of people when you do not know the whole story.

Warnings: Belongs to JKR. Mentions of suicide.

"For Merlin's sake, child, put the wand down."

"What do you want?"

Andromeda frowned. His gaze flickered wildly around, his body rigid, as if something was coming for him. He didn't look much better then a walking skeleton.

"I've just come to talk, dear."

"I don't want to talk to _you._" Draco hissed, glancing over his shoulder wearily.

She took a step forward, but regretted it instantly. He practically leapt a foot backwards, his breath hitching frantically. "Stay _back!_"

Andromeda knew that Draco had been tramustised by what had happened to him in his youth. She knew he was wary and skittish. But she never thought he would react so violently to a single step. She raised her hands, head ducking slightly. Garnet eyes met silver, and she blinked slowly. "I'm not going to hurt you. I swear. I just need to talk to you."

Draco slowly lowered his wand, but kept it tight in his hands, knuckles white as he took a step back to let her in.

Everyone had suffered scars from the War, and Andromeda knew that. She stepped inside delicately, looking at Draco for a split second. But some people had suffered even worse. Not just physical and emotional scars, but mental as well, which left them scarred beyond repair. _Oh, Hermione, I really, really hope you can heal my precious nephew. Well, I did. But now? Now I think he might be unrepairable._

"Are you feeling alright, dear? You're awfully pale." Andromeda's brows furrowed. She was not the best at subtlety.

The door closed with a soft _bang _as his pale hand slipped away from it. He was clearly startled when it closed. "What do you want, Andromeda?"

"You do greet your guests nicely, don't you?" She swept out of the entrance and into the living room, eyes tracing the room as she entered. The furniture was silver and green, dark polished oak. Gray walls, and large windows looking out into the garden, though covered by dark curtains. Rugs the color of russet and browns lay on the floor, tthe heavy, glass topped, dark polished oak table in the middle of the room. A fire crackled and roaring, but nothing was scattered on the mantlepiece as Narcissa often would have. No pictures or charmed trinkets. The massive crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, but the amber light had gone out in it. The Malfoy Manor was no longer the warm, comforting home that Narcissa had let her into one time when Draco was a little boy, and Lucius had left the house.

Now it was just a house, a shell of it's former being. Just like Draco. Slowly, she turned to see Draco standing in the archway, watching her through wary eyes, but his head was down, eyes only flickering up occasionally. "What happened, Draco?" She whispered, her voice echoing eerily. The ceilings stretched high, revealing the dark colored railing above where you could lean over to see what was happening below. The staircase, railings dark, curved up for a few steps before they vanished behind the wall. "What happened to The Malfoy Manor?"

"Nothing happened to it. It's always been like this."

Andromeda sighed, but it was obvious he wasn't going to continue talking to her about the Manor. "Well, I've come here for a different reason then to speak about the Manor."

"What is that?" Draco replied quietly, his head low.

"How many bedrooms reside in the Manor?"

"Twelve? I...I think?"

"Interesting...interesting..." She mused. "And tell me, how many people live here?"

"Um...one? You...you know this though?" He sounded throughly confused.

"Lets see. You, a single man, alone, in this _massive_ four story Manor, that has twelve bedrooms." She swept by him, stopping in front of him. Her eyes narrowed as he flinched.

"And?"

"Draco, there is a girl. She is heartbroken and wounded, and homeless. She needs a place to live. _You_ could offer that for her though. It would be good for her and you."

Draco recoiled instantly, backing away quickly. "No, no, no, no, no! No people. _No people._ She can live with you. Not me."

"Draconis Lucius Malfoy!" Andromeda snapped. Draco recoiled even farther, not meeting her gaze. He was breathing raggedly at the mention of his father's name. "You have tried to kill yourself three times now. You are going to go _mad_ living in this place. You need someone to keep you _under control. _You need someone to tame you down. To control your anxiety. She can help with that!"

"No!" Draco hissed, eyes glittering painfully. "I don't know who this girl is! I don't want to live with anyone. If anything, _she'd_ go mad. And who would want to live with me?! I'm a Deatheater, remember? I'm the one chosen, to kill Dumbledore. To do everyone of Voldermort's request."

"You aren't a Deatheater anymore." Andromeda murmured softly. "She wouldn't care about your past. She believes there is good in everyone, even Deatheaters."

Draco's eyes flickered uncertainly. "Who is she even?"

Andromeda winced. "Erm...Hermione Granger."

Draco blinked, taking one more step back. "S-sorry?"

"Hermione Granger."

"I...I..._no_." He hissed.

"_Please_, Draco. She needs a home!" Andromeda pleaded, her voice shrill with desperation.

"No! I don't someone else in my house!"

"She won't bother you. She's just here to make she you don't off yourself when Pansy, Alissa or I can't check on you."

Draco fell silent, eyes flickering with dark gray specks. "She's homeless?"

"Homeless. Heartbroken. Wounded. Strong and almighty, but heartbroken. She won't bother you. All you have to do is provide her with a place to stay. She can take care of herself for the most part."

"I...suppose we could see how it would work. But...but..no! I don't want to live with another person!" Panic flared inside Draco's chest. How _dare _try to force him to live with another being? He fared well enough on his own. He didn't need someone else to watch him. Especially _Granger_.

"Draco, come on! She won't bother you at all, just to make sure you're still alive."

"What, do you think I'm just going to off myself every chance I get?"

"Sure seems like it lately." Andromeda pulled out her phone suddenly, hovering it closely. She put it away after a moment.

"What are you doing?"

Then the front door was opened. He jumped, turning suddenly. With her head held high and a confident stride, though he could see a slight limp, was Hermione Granger.

She looked so much different from what he remembered. She was tall, slender, slightly tanned skin with wavy chestnut hair down to her shoulders. If he didn't know who she was, he would have said she was gorgeous.

"I like this idea just as much as you, Malfoy. Because I can guarantee you're the same entitled, arrogant, racist, egotistical brat as you were in school. _But_, there is good in everyone, even you I guess. And I'm doing this because I don't want Andromeda to see her nephew torn apart by Werewolves or ravaged by stray Deatheaters, not because I care about you, and that has to be made clear. Got it?"


	4. Chapter 4

I found a lovely Dramione edit! Props to who made it, it's wonderful! Edited beautifully, thank you for giving this to the Dramione shippers! Please support them, they are amazing. watch?v=_zdPtdnWv9I

Second one today. I figured since these are both short I'd just get them out in the shape day for you. The next one will be longer, promise!

* * *

Hermione leaned against Andromeda's truck, keeping the weight from her right leg. Though it had been almost a week, and with countless healing spells, the wound wasn't healing properly. Andromeda had tried to insist on bringing her to Saint Mungo's, but Hermione refused countless times.

Her phone buzzed suddenly.

_'AndromedaTonks— Come inside now. Be careful, try not to make a loud noise. It'll scare his cat.'_

_'HermioneJean— Can I slap him?'_

_'AndromedaTonks— Absolutely not.'_

_'HermioneJean— You're no fun.'_

Hermione shoved off of the truck, and strode towards the massive, arching dark doors. The urge to limp was almost irresitible, but no way would she be seen weak with Draco Malfoy the Arsehole Extraordinaire.

She hauled herself up the concrete step onto the pathway to the doors. Tall, looming pilers sat on each side of the stairs, roaring stone gryffons sitting on top of them. Tall pine bushes loomed on each side of the pathway, but they were no longer alive. They were wilted, dead, dried and brown, almost as bleak as the house themselves. She approached the doors, pausing to take them in.

They stretched high above her head, the dark wood carved with intricate flower and vines. The stone and wood walls of the exterior of the house had dead vins crawling along them, like claws gripping the house.

She frowned, and shoved one door open. She gasped, agony streaming up her arms as she slipped inside. _The inside is no better_. She mused as the door closed. Then she saw Malfoy. Without even taking in his apperance for a second, she strode toward him quickly, trying to keep the limp from her stride, her head up. "I like this idea just as much as you, Malfoy. Because I can guarantee you're the same entitled, arrogant, racist, egotistical brat you were in school. _But_ there is good in everyone, even you I guess. And I'm doing this because I don't want Andromeda to see her nephew torn apart by Werewolves or ravaged by stray Deatheaters, not because I care about you and that has to be made clear. Got it?"

Draco stiffened, and took a slow step back, eyes wide with..._fear._ Hermione then realized how gaunt he was. He was incredibly tall, and strong jawed and he cheekbones were high and sharp, giving him that purely aristocratic look. But it wasn't, because his face was to thin, to pale, to...gaunt. He was terribly skinny beneath his black longsleeve, she could see the bones of his shoulders through the thin fabric. His hair was silver-white in the dull lighting, and fell in ragged waves just below his jaw. His eyes were steel silver, but haunted and dull and anguished, no longer holding the normal contempt and sneering that told her this was _Malfoy_.

The way he had flinched violently when she approached him, the way he had backed down and his shoulders went slack, his head ducking low and he refused to meet her eye told her that something uttery tormenting had happened to the young man. He looked ill, and starved.

She should have felt sympathy for him. But nothing but vexation and resentment for the Slytherin came to her. He had _insulted_ and _name-called_ her for _seven years_. He called her nothing but racial slurs and catcalls for ages, and nothing, _nothing_, could make her feel sympathy for him.

"Cool it, Granger." Andromeda's sharp tone cut into Hermione's thoughts, a hand dragging her back by the shoulder.

Hermione whipped around, her dark amber gaze piercing. "Seven years, Andromeda! Seven years of racial slurs, catcalls, teasing, homophobic comments about Ginny and Luna. Do you _really_ think I can just ignore that?!"

"You're going to have to." Blazing garnet scorched into burnt amber as their eyes met for one heartstopping moment, and Hermione heard Malfoy take in a sharp breath, as if he expected something horrid to happen. "Because you have no where else to go."

Hermione's breath hitched. Those words, coming from such a sweet person, _stung so much._ Andromeda pulled out her wand, and Hermione heard a soft yelp and the scuffle of feet, and she whipped around. Malfoy had vanished.

"_Accio Luggage._" The doors burst open, and Hermione's suitcase, and a spitting, furious Crookshanks in his carrier, came through, landing gently at the bottom of the stairwell.

"I will keep you updated on Ronald Weasley's situation." And Andromeda left, the doors slamming behind her, leaving Hermione alone in the cold, bare, room.

Hermione fell to her knees in the middle of the room, hands steepled over her mouth and nose, fighting to hold back tears. The feeling of desolation gripped her chest violently, threatening to spill over. She gasped frantically, pleading this was just a very long nightmare. That she'd wake up and it'd be over. She'd be back with Ron, instead of stuck inside this nightmare-ish building, were she could practically hear Bellatrix's voice in her ears.

She was suddenly acutely aware of another presence in the room. She lurched to her feet, causing Draco to flinch back.

"Your cat," he beckoned to Crookshanks, his voice flat. "You should let him out. He's distressed."

Hermione eyed him warily, crossing the area, discreetly wiping unshed tears from her eyes. She knelt in front of his wicker crate, gently opening it. Crookshanks pelted out, and stopped, amber eyes wide as he stared at Draco.

She watched in utter confusion as Draco knelt down, lowering his head slowly. Crookshanks flicked his tail, and darted passed him and disappearing around the corner. "What the hell are you doing, Malfoy?"

"For God's sake, Granger, you do not have to be so hostile." He growled as he rose to his feet. "The cat. It's scared. It would have been even more scared if I just stood there."

Hermione rolled her eyes and scoffed as she rose to her feet. But she could have _sworn_ she heard the slightest hint of hurt in his voice. _He's hurt because I'm not stroking his precious ego like his Slytherin cronies do._

"And you care about my cat, because...?"

"Your bedroom. Upstairs, third floor, hallway on the left, last door. Do not try and enter any rooms that are locked and the basement is off limits. Got it?"

Hermione sneered at him, eyes glowering with contempt as she picked up her suitcase and dragged it up the stairs.

* * *

Draco watched her has she vanished, letting out a long sigh. Of all people his aunt could have chosen, it had to be Granger.

"Merlin, please don't let her find out."


	5. Chapter 5

Someone commented about me making Ron a dick just to make Draco look good.

Actually I'm not trying to do that. Draco _is_ a racist. This is in no way trying to defend him against that, or make it seem like it's acceptable that he did that to Hermione and countless others. So, Ron being a abusive arsehole is not trying to make Draco look like that good guy, because he's not, it's just the plot. Hope you understand! ^^

Also this is in no way trying to call anyone out, just trying to answer questions! ^^

* * *

The second and third floor of the Malfoy Manor weren't much different from the main floor. Hallways with strange doors, looming ceilings, spiderwebs clinging to corners and doorframes, and spiraling staircases. They were lit as well as the downstairs was, dull and low, giving it that haunted and transcendental feel.

By the time she reached the top of the third floor, she was throughly exhausted, aching, and freaked out. It didn't help her knowing that Voldermort and his Death Eaters had lived here, and killed countless people whilst they did. She jumped when she heard a loud scuffling noise, but relaxed when she realized what it was.

It was a very small cat, with large blue eyes and a diluted calico pelt with light peach orange dapples. It let out a chirp as it saw her, and trotted up to her, tail kinking over it's back. "You must be the cat Andromeda was talking about," Hermione smiled as the cat rubbed her pelt along Hermione's leg, purring contently.

"Creepy place," Hermione whispered, slowly dragging her suitcase down the hall, the cat at her heels. Slowly, she opened the door, terrified of what would happen. But nothing did. She breathed a sigh of relief as the cat trotted inside, as if leading her.

The room was absolutely massive (albeit dusty.) The bed fit for two fit, sheets and blankets made of green and silver silk. The frame was dark polished oak, like almost everything in the Manor, and thick, green and silver drapes fell around the bed. It was dusty in the room, and when the cat leapt onto the window sill, Hermione could see pawprints surrounded by dust.

Exhausted, Hermione dragged her case over to the dresser, and abandoned it, and collasped half-heartedly on the bed. It was ridicuously soft, the sheets cooling against her slightly feverish skin. She kicked her shoes off, and hauled herself onto her stomach, watching the calico play with the strings of her shoes.

The Malfoy's were one of the eldest pure blooded families there was. Malfoy Manor had been rumored to be a place of grandur and etheral spirit. They Malfoy's had also owned several house elves who had cared for the home.

So why, Hermioned wondered as she flipped on her back, staring at the curtains draping over the top, had the Manor lost all the grandur and beauty it was rumoured to have? Where were the house elves?

She frowned, contemplating this. Malfoy wouldn't have gotten rid of them. No, he was still to much of a rightous arsehole for that. She didn't have much time to think about it, because she had drifted into a uneasy sleep, riddled with nightmare-ish dreams.

* * *

It was late, she realized, when she finally woke up. She probably would have stayed asleep if it weren't for the burning pain in her leg and the claws of hunger. She shooked off the pain, guessing she had just slept on it wrong. But walking down two flights of stairs did _not_ help. She didn't know where she was going, exactly, but she had to find the kitchen somewhere.

Finally, she found it down a hall, and walked through the arching doorway. It confused her when she realized that _Malfoy _had taken to using a stove and refrigerator. It had been discovered two years ago how to use electricty and such in a Wizarding World, but some people hadn't taken to it.

That's when she realized why there was no house elves, and that's when she realized Malfoy was in the room, leaning over something on the table. He had gone ridgid, obviously knowing she was there. How, she wonder, because she had been pretty much silent as she entered the kitchen?

"I thought the Malfoy's had a bunch of house elves?" She quipped coldly, causing him to jerk his head up to pin his steel gaze on her.

"They're all dead. Death Eaters, remember? They lived here. Killed the house eleves for fun, except for a few who had left, and one that they kept alivd, but died shortly after the War."

Hermione's breath hitched, and she took a shakey step back. "They killed them?" She breathed. Who would kill such sweet and innocent creatures?_ Bellatrix._

The name slashed through her mind like a lightning bolt, and it must have shown because Malfoy dipped his head slightly, his to-long hair falling across his gaunt features. "She tortured them. Her playthings when she was bored. If one of them got Avada Kedavra'd they were lucky. The curses she used were far, far worse..."

"P-Please stop, please stop, please stop." Hermione shuddered, tears stinging her eyes. And the haunted look in his steel eyes caused her to feel a pang of sympathy, and that last thing she wanted was to be sympathetic towards _him_.

"Oh. I forgot you took a liking to those things."

"You knew?"

Draco rolled his eyes, stacking the papers that were on the table. "Everyone did, Granger." He responded with a sigh.

"What are those papers?"

Suddenly he shot her a terrified glance, and picked them up quickly. "None of your fucking business," he snapped, sweeping past her quickly. But her arm shot out, slapping across his chest to stop him, and much, much harder then she meant to.

He gave a sharp yelp that didn't sound human, going rigid at her touch. She winced, and slowly drew her hand away. "What are they?"

"They're none of your business!" He snarled, and vanished down the hall and into the shadows before Hermione could stop him.

Hermione scowled. He was still a arsehole. _Is it really that surprising, though?_

_No..._

She whisked over, pulling the fridge open. _Seriously? Does he not have food?_

She sighed, decided she would half to go to the store— no, fuck that, she would make him do it. She remembered suddenly that tomorrow was Friday. _Fuck, work! I have to go in tomorrow or Alissa will kill me...and that Werewolf's hearing...I can't miss that, I need to help her._

* * *

She woke up much earlier then she intended, but after knocking repeatedly on every door to find Malfoy's, she found it.

He yanked it open, looking pissed. "It's six am, Granger! What the hell is it?!"

"I have to go to work, Malfoy. Where the hell is the bathroom? I need to take a shower."

"There's one downstairs." And he slammed the door shut in her face.

* * *

After taking a quick shower, dressing as best she could, she ran down the stairs, wincing. She found a pen and parchment in a drawer, and scribbling quickly and left it on and kitchen table, and swept out into the kitchen towards his fireplace to use the Floo.

_To Draco Malfoy, _

_I have left for work. I do not know when I will be back, as I have much paperwork to catch up on and have to attend a hearing at 7 PM. Your fridge is empty, so buy some food so we don't starve. I fed your cat, because she would not stop meowing until I did. Not that you care about anything I just said._

_Please don't die whilst I'm gone, because explaining to Andromeda would be horrid— Signed, Granger._


	6. Chapter 6

The ear-piercing screech of the phone split through the silent office, lurching Hermione from her droning thoughts. It was almost nine pm, and Hermione was sorting throu papers in her office, when she picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

"_Draco says you aren't home yet."_

Andromeda. Of course it had to be Andromed.

"Ok, and?"

"_You should be resting and not working."_

"I had a hearing I had to attend."

"_He said you've been gone all day. First, you're supposed to be resting, and second, do you realize how many times he could have gotten himself killed?"_

"I'm not his baby-sitter, Andromeda!" Hermione snapped.

"_Go home. Now._"

Hermione hissed, ending the call sharply, and stood up. She glanced longingly at the papers, the urge to finish them tugging at her. But she had to get to the Manor, or Andromeda would kill her. She slipped out of her office, and towards the Floo. The Ministry was empty, she realized, as she stepped inside the Floo. "Malfoy Manor."

She, not so delicately, stumbled from the fireplace. Thankfully, her stumbled had caused her to just barely miss a curse that cracked loudly as it hit the mantlepiece behind her. She looked up, Draco's silver gaze watching her warily, wand in hand. "What the hell was that for, Malfoy?" She hissed, straightening up and dusting off her legs quickly.

"You scared the fuck out of me." His voice sounded hoarse, not quite right, as if he hadn't used his voice in a long time.

"So you decided to hex me?"

"I didn't know it was you!" He sounded exasperated.

Hermione rolled her eyes, striding past him. He flinched, taking a step back. "Did you get food?"

"Why are you limping?" He had completely disregarded what she had said, his silver eyes now the shade of dark storm clouds. "Is it the reason you left Weasley?"

Hermione stiffened, attempting to meet his gaze. but he wouldn't meet her's. "Don't claim to know anything about me, Malfoy." She snarled, scorn burning into her voice.

"I'm not claiming to know anything about you." She was shocked to find that there was no coldness or hatred in his voice, but it wavered slightly, as if it took everything in him to force himself to speak to her. "You should get your leg looked at."

"I have. Leave me alone, Malfoy, I don't want your advice!" she snapped. He flinched again at that, and she realized the wand in his hand was trembling ever so slightly. He glanced around warily, not meeting her gaze.

"I was just trying to help." He backed out of the room, not once turning his back to her, until he turned to flee up the stairs.

"That was a cruel, cruel thing to do."

Hermione whipped around. Sitting on the pane of the massive windows are a tall girl, with jaw length, midnight black hair. She was actually very pretty, her lips colored a dark shade of purple, bringing out her mint green, almond shaped eyes. Then Hermione realized sho it was, and realized that she, herself, was completely defenseless.

"How did you get in here?" Hermione hissed.

Pansy stood up, striding over Hermione. "Why so hostile?" Her shape blurred suddenly, and in her place no longer stood a girl, but a dilute calico cat.

"Oh my fucking God! You!" Hermione snapped as Pansy shifted back.

"Shh! Shh!" Pansy's eyes flickered towards the stairs. "Draco might hear us!"

Hermione's hands went to her temples. There was so much wrong with this conversation. Pansy was a Animagus, and Draco didn't know that his 'cat' was really Pansy Parkinson. "I have a lot of questions. Why are you here, how did you get here, and since when are you a Animagus?"

Pansy sighed, flicking her short hair from her face. "I'm here to stop Draco from killing himself. And four—"

"You mean getting himself killed."

"No, I mean killing himself. That's a conversation for later. Anyway, four years ago—"

"No! What do you mean, killing himself?" Hermione snapped.

PPansy blinked, but seemed to shake it off. "Putting himself in danger, or whatever. No killing himself like you're thinking...I-I mean, he's just reckless. Anyway..."

* * *

She didn't know. That sent a flare of panic through Pansy. She didn't know what Hermione's intentions were, and she, Hermione...she shuddered just thinking about what might happen if Hermione hated Draco enough to force him to actuslly succeed in his attempts.

"Four years ago, McGonagall helped me become a Animagus, because she knew of Draco's recklessness, and wanted to help him. So I've been watching him. But it's hard, because if he found out I wasn't actually a cat...well, things didn't end very well with out relationship and he would be pretty pissed..."

Hermione blinked, very obviously confused and unsure if she should trust her. "And?"

"And when you came along, well...I am really hopeful. Hopeful that you can help him. And made use a few Scourgify's on this place as well." She scowled, curling her lip slightly as she looked at the place.

"You want me to help him. How? He hates mudblood's, remember?"

Pansy sighed, sinking down to sit cross legged on the floor. She should have expected that question. "Draco gave that up a long time ago, Granger. Maybe he's still a git and a bratty little arsehole, but he is no where near as prejudice as he used to be." She tilted her head up, watching the scowl cross the chestnut haired girl's face.

"I'll believe that when house elves grow wings and Werewolves stop transforming on full moons. Which is never." Hermione muttered, eyes narrowed.

Pansy pulled her wand from somewhere inside her sweatshirt, and handed it up to Hermione. "I realize you don't have a wand. You can borrow mine if you like, clean your room. It's awful dusty."

Hermione hesitantly took the wand, studying it. "It's your wand, though..."

"Just until you get your own again. I don't have much use for it." With that, Pansy blurred into her cat form, and trotted up the stairs.


	7. Chapter 7

Oh my Salazar, Godric, Helga and Rowena you guys! Thank you for all the lovely reviews, follows andfavorites! I'm glad people really like this fic.

So a lot of stuff is revealed in this. I was going to do it slowly, but i have so many ideas for this fic that I don't know what to so with it all. S, theres that! Thanks again you guys. I do love reviews and constructive criticism!

* * *

The first two weeks of living with Malfoy were admittedly some of the strangest Hermione Granger had ever lived.

She hardly saw him, and even when she did the only words exchanged between them were only little things, 'don't get yourself killed while I'm gone, Malfoy.' was the most common thing she found that she said.

Strangely, they had a routine. Avoid each other at all possible, but make sure that Malfoy wasn't dead. She found that he hadn't once insulted her since she had gotten there.

The house was the strangest part of it all. Things appeared and disappeared frequently, the pictures on the wall rearranging themselves or her clothes disappearing and then returning a day or so later. She would have guessed houseelves, but Draco didn't appear to have any, having said that Bellatrix and the other Death Eaters had killed them all.

Her leg wound still had not healed completely. Not that she would ever admit it, and hid her very slight limp well. She had found and raided the Malfoy's rather massive library, finding many old Potion's books, and now she sat on the floor, reading them, Pansy leaning over her shoulder curiously.

"Just let me see!" Pansy whined softly, having shifted into her human form, claiming that she was 'bored of being a cat.'

"You're lucky I'm letting you stay in your human form, Parkinson! I still don't trust you, and especially around ancient books!"

"Are you still on about my whole Death Eater thing?"

"Yes!"

"You know I nev—"

"I don't want to hear it."

They both stiffened suddenly. A faint noise reached their ears, a long howl. Hermione glanced out the window, seeing the full moon. "It's Draco's Werewolf neighbor," Pansy hissed softly.

"He has a neighbor?"

"Can't see the house, but she's there. A Werewolf."

Hermione frowned, staring out the window. "Rather odd. Alright, I should get sleep." And as if a cue, Pansy shifted and trotted from the room, tail flicking in fairwell.

* * *

The next morning was Friday and for the first time in weeks, she had a day off. She was eating a bowl of oatmeal, watching Draco out of the corner of her eye. He sat perched on a stool, almost like a cat, oddly. His heels rested on the thick piece of wood supporting the stool legs, his body curled gracefully over a notebook. He was silent, but she was acutely aware of the soft scraping of his pencil, and how his gaze would flick of very often, alerting by Crookshanks and Pansy chasing each other or a bird passing by the window, or how he would stiffened unconsciously when she shifted in her seat.

Her head ached painfully, and she couldn't quite figure out why she felt so ill that morning, and the cold, wet, November weather didn't help. Suddenly, there was a sharp ring of her phone, earning a very inhuman, almost canine like yelp from Malfoy, his head snapping up quickly. Hermione sighed, rather fed up with his nature, and answered the call.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Hermione dear, how are you feeling?"

"Oh, fine, thank you Andromeda." Hermione quickly came up with a lie, not keen on telling her that her leg hadn't yet healed, and that she was fairly unwell over all.

"I hate to ruin your good mood, Hermione, but I have news."

"What happened? Is everyone alright?"

"Yes dear, everyone is fine. But...Ronald's hearing is next Saturday."

Hermione stiffened. The name sent a stabbing pain through her leg, and she snapped her jaws close in order to keep a whimper of agony from escaping. "O-ok..." she whispered, her voice thin.

"I'm sorry, dear, I–" but Hermione didn't want to hear it. She ended the call, and slammed the phone down.

Draco suddenly flinched, getting to his feet. He skirted out of the room quickly, without a word.

Hermione felt like she couldn't breathe. She staggered to her feet, but found it was no use as she sank to her knees. She loved Ron with every bit of her existence, yet somehow hating him so much it hurt. Silent tears ran down her cheeks now, a muffled whimper escaping her throat.

* * *

Draco crept back into the room slowly. He was terrified that she had found out what he was, for he knew he had completely and utterly forgotten to use silencing charms to muffle the howls of the wolf that resided inside him. But she was clearly in pain, and his acute Werewolf senses had picked up the scent of blood on her leg wound.

"Granger?" He whispered, stopping a few feet away, and kneeling down, not daring to move closer. "Is everything alright?"

"No, everything is not 'alright', Malfoy!" She snapped, jerking her head up, glaring at him. Suddenly she stood, and swept out of the room without another word.

* * *

Often times he wondered how he had gotten himself here, locked in a cell. In a place with no warmth, comfort, or love, or even a shred of joy. A place were he was punished for the sins he committed under the name of Tom Riddle. He stared down on the Mark that adorned his left forearm, the snake and skull pulsing darkly now, showing that His reign would once more come into view.

He then heard the soft scuffle of fabric on stone as his companion in the other cell awoke. Slowly, painfully, he dragged himself over to the bars to see her. Wild curled distorted a arisocratic face and garnet eyes, but even in the dim light he could tell how much she looked like his wife, the woman he had murdered on Voldemort's command, and he had not hesitated, willing to take his wife and his child's life, his heir, to serve the Dark Lord.

"Tonight," the woman with garnet eyes rasped, her voice low and raspy, as if it were painful for her to speak. "Tonight we get out of this hellhole."

"How, though?" Many times had he asked himself this, but never had he dared to speak it aloud before now. "Security is top notch now that Crouch escaped."

"I've gotten out of here once, Malfoy, I can do it again!" She growled, voice dangerously low and eyes flashing.

"Last time you had Dementors to help you, this time we're alone!"

"Oh, but don't you see? We aren't alone. We have you," her face twisted into a malingant grin. "Our Dark Lord."

* * *

Pansy aimlessly padded through the winding hallways of the Malfoy Manor, and reared on her hindlegs, scrambling at a doorknob until the door opened. Fresh, cold air blew against her pelt, mist riding the breeze. She trotted out onto the balcony, jumping onto the railing and staring down at the garden below.

She didn't often ventur down there, as she would be easy prey for Draco's Thestral's or the many lethal plants that resided in Lady Narcissa's garden. Her form blurred until she was a girl sitting on the railing, legs dangling off the side, even though it wasa potentially she would drop to her death.

She rolled up her left sleeve, staring in horror at the pulsing, black snake and skull tattoo. It hadn't done that in five years, since Voldemort was killed. Why now? Was it just a fluke? But the Dark Mark didn't make mistakes.

She shivered, staring at the pulsing skin, the snake slithering slightly. She tilted her hesd to the sky, mist dancing around her face. "Oh Merlin, please. Please just let this be a mistake."

* * *

Draco yanked his shirt from his head, tossing it carelessly to the other side of the room, scrambling in his dresser for more suitable attire. Suddenly he paused, glancing down at his forearm. Although horribly distorted by the multiple self-harm scars, old and new, in futile attempts to remove it, the Dark Mark burned starkly against the unhealthily pale skin.

Trepidition hit him like a sack of bricks. _This can't be happening, this isn't right. They're in Azkaban, they can't get out! Oh Merlin..._

But he didn't have time to dwell on it, because suddenly his bedroom door was kicked open without warning.

"Malfoy, have you seen my— Oh Merlin!"


	8. Chapter 8

Warnings: HP world is not mine, mearly my sandbox from JKR. Slightly disturbing. Description of self-harm and abuse scars.

* * *

In retrospect, Hermione wished she had never opened that door. Actually, scrap that, she wished she never stepped _foot _into the Malfoy Manor.

* * *

"Malfoy, have you seen m—Oh, Merlin!" She hadn't meant for the words to leave her tongue, nor did she intended them to be so loud. But what she saw forced them from her, and the image embedded itself in her mind, creating a deep mental scar that she could never erase.

She hated Malfoy. She _loathed _Malfoy with every inch of her being. But what she saw changed her prospective on him forever.

It was Malfoy, undeniably. A shirtless Malfoy. A anorexic, scarred Malfoy.

She knew he was thin, and sometimes it worried her, though she wouldn't admit it. But she never, ever imagined him so thin that she could count every one of his ribs clearly in a seconds glance or how sharp the lines of his spine and shoulder blades were. Seeing that alone was horrifying and almost sickening, not because she thought he was ugly because how skinny he was looked like it _hurt._

But on top of that, every single inch of his body, or what she could see, was covered in scars of every shape and form, fresh and old. She could clearing pick out new and old self harm scars on his arms, wrists, and collarbones, and a thick, silver-flesh, large scar on his left shoulder, that looked almost like a bite from a—

"Granger, get the hell out!" It came out suddenly from Malfoy, almost like a sob, his arm flashing out even though he held no wand. Magic crackled around him, sharp, copper red fear and white-hot rage, enough to slam her out of the room and shove the door closed at the same time.

She hit the wall on the other side of the hallway, panting heavily. She didn't even yelp because there was to much shock from what she had just seen. Slowly, she drew her knees to her chest, staring at his door blankly.

Andromeda had lied to her. Pansy had lied to her. He wasn't reckless and heedless to warnings, he was _suicidal_. She shivered, sinking into herself. That wound, silver-fleshed wound on his shoulder...it reminded her of a...no. Malfoy wasn't a Werewolf.

She shook her head, slowly rising to her feet. Everything ached even more now. Albeit her leg had healed some, it still wasn't fully healed. She had raided the Malfoy Manor library in search of healing spells, but the library was mostly full of Dark Curses and Spells. With a sigh, she raised her hand, knocking on his door softly. "Malfoy?" She whispered. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking...I..."

She drew off. There was silence on the other side of the door. And then suddenly it was ripped open, revealing a (thankfully) clothed Malfoy. But he was dressed head to toe in black, his face cover completely exept for his eyes which burned bright silver. He had a very large sachel tossed over his head and shoulder. His eyes widened when he saw her, the air around him crackled with fear and...something Hermione couldn't detect.

"Why...? Malfoy, you need—" But he wasn't listening. He shoved past her, purposely shoving his shoulder against her, and it scared her how powerful he was even with such a frail form. He stalked down the hall, nothing but a shadow.

She followed him quickly, and on the last staircase, in her haste to get to him, her wounded leg gave out beneath her. The fear of falling spiked inside her chest as she slid, but she never had time to hit the stairs. Arms caught her, and though she could feel them trembling with effort to hold her weight, she calmed down quickly. Then she realized who it was, and scrambled away, lashing out to grab a hold of the railing.

Malfoy stared at her, wisps of white hair falling from the hood that covered him. He blinked, his pale silver gaze blank. "Careful," he rasped, voice slightly muffled.

"Malfoy, I'm sorry, alright? If you need—you are so...where the hell are you going?" A thousands questions scrambled her mind, and she couldn't find the right one to ask first.

"Knockturn Alley." He snapped, picking his bag up again, though she wasn't sure when he put it down.

"Knockturn Alley? Why?"

"You are utterly brillant Granger, but apparentally not when it comes to the obvious!" He trotted down the stairs, and she followed him wearily, unable to get the image of him from her head. "I can't work for the Ministry, and I can't work in Diagon Alley, so where else should I go? I'm forbidden from working the Ministry, and I can't say many people are going to hire a ex-Death Eater."

"Oh." Suddenly, Hermione was hit with even more sympathy for him, though much against her own will. Of course, she had taken into account that reformed Death Eaters would have a difficult time finding a good paying job, but somehow she never had taken _Malfoy_ into account. "Malfoy, look, I didn't—"

Malfoy suddenly turned on her. It was strange, because normally he would have just flinched or left without another word. "I don't want to hear it, Granger! I don't want to ear your pity. My problems are my problems, and not yours. You should be wholeheartedly grateful that I haven't Obliviated you and thrown you into the streets yet."

She couldn't stop the tide of fury that rose and washed over her, wholly consuming her senses. "You repulse me, Malfoy."

But he wasn't listening. He had already stepped into the large fireplace in the back of the kitchen, uttered, "Knockturn Alley," and vanished in a flare of green flames and smoke.

* * *

_"You repulse me, you little brat. Honestly, what a slob you are! Fix that damn tie!" Draco let out a little yelp as his father snatched him by the front of his robes, fixing his tie and pulling it so tight Draco could barely breathe._

_"Dad, Dad, it's choking me." He scrambled at his throat in futile attempts to loosen the fabric, but Lucius only pulled it tighter._

_"Good," his blue-gray eyes flashed. "Maybe that'll teach you to dress yourself properly next time and not disgrace the Malfoy name."_

* * *

_"Draconis..." Narcissa's breath left her lungs sharply as she saw her own son, not yet even eighteen, bleeding from wounds made not just by himself but by his own father. She dropped to her knees beside her child, hooking a gentle finger beneath his chin, forcing his steel silver to meet her ice blue. "What happened while I was gone?"_

_Draco gave a weak sob, curling into himself and pulling his head away and burying it deep into his knees until all she saw was his ice-white hair. "What do you think?" His weak voice was muffled._

_"I'm sorry, love, I—"_

_She didn't have time to finish her sentence because the door was flung open._

* * *

_Draco watched in silent horror as his parents dueled viciously. His mother was a brilliant witch, but Draco feared his father was better, albeit it was because he used dark curses and wicked tricks. He wouldn't forget the day he saw his mother's body moving with seizure like movements as the Cruciatus Curse racked her._

* * *

Draco shook his head violently, stumbling from the fire place into Mauvit and Astoria's. He clutched the satchel of potions tightly to his chest, his heart racing. He edged behind the counter, opening the bag and stacking the potions neatly in a rack. Granger had seen. She had seen his malnourished and scarred and burned and whipped body, and nothing but Obliviation could rip those memories from her mind.

And it terrified him.

He flinched as the door open, another figure clothed in darkness sliding inside the shop. Brillant green eyes met his. "Greengrass." He greeted, eyeing her warily.

"Mauvit." Astoria greeted tensely, a package clutched in her arms.

Mauvit. His own false façade just so he could stay hidden and not be noticed by other. Astoria Greengrass and himself owned the shop, a shop much like Borgin and Burkes, yet it sold potions and far less dangerous stuff then Borgin did, just enough for him and Astoria to make a living. But he had forced her to use a name other then his own.

"What's got your wand in a twist more then normal?" Astoria planted the package in the counter, watching him through narrowed eyes.

"Granger." He muttered. "Somehow I ended up living with her, and honestly I don't even know how or why."


	9. Chapter 9

Hermione stared at the fire place, a sickening feeling in her belly. Slowly, she backed out of the kitchen, wandering into the living room, and stared at the barren space. Suddenly a roar of frustration rose in her throat, and she swallowed it quickly, pulling put Pansy's wand.

Then she flicked the wand quickly, watching the scene unfold before her. The once broken, delicate chandilier repaired itself, bursting into brilliant amber light. Old, washed out gray curtains were replaced with Slytherin green and soft Gryffindor gold, pulled aside to let the dull stormy light in. The sharp crack caused by curses in the mantlepiece glued back together, as if it had always been unharmed; a fresh fire roared inside the fireplace.

Around her the place was magically cleaned and repaired, no longer dusty and barren, but felt a little bit more like a home.

"Granger, Granger!" Pansy didn't seem to want to simply walk down the stairs, so she promptly slid down the staircase, leaping off with slightly frizzled hair. "Granger, you have to see this!"

Hermione turned to looked at her, slightly exasperated. "What is it, Pansy?"

Pansy pulled up her left sleeve, jerking her arm out.

"What the hell?"

* * *

Astoria pulled the hood off, raising a eyebrow. "Thought you were done with dating after Pansy dumped you?"

Draco felt the air around him sizzle with his own magic, and he forced it to lie down. "It's not like that, Tori. Something happened to her, and she needed a place to say. I don't like it, and neither does she, but there's not much we can do about it right now." Draco knew what he had to ask Astoria, but he was hesitant. Thankfully, at that moment the door opened, a very old wizard leaning on a stick hobbling inside.

"Good morning, Norbert!" Astoria greeted happily, earning a grin from the eldery man. "Mauvit, did you get the potion I _specifically asked you to brew?"_ She saw the last few words through clenched teeth, eyes glittering.

"Chill, Tori. I did," Draco glanced over the rack quickly, and snatched a almost poisonous looking green potion. "You're lucky that I was able to find the ingredients to brew this. Do you realize how expensive Veela hair is? You owe me." Without another word, he thrust the potion into Astoria's hand, and she just scoffed at his melodramatism.

Draco only faintly heard the exchange between his co-worker and the old man, to busy checking potion orders to even care. But he did care when the old man left, and Tori just stared at him, leaning against the counter. "I know what you want to ask me, Malfoy. Yes, it is."

His silver gaze snapped up to meet hers. "You don't really think...? Do you?"

"He's dead, Drake. And Azkaban is to highly guarded for anyone to escape."

"Then, why...?" Astoria just shook her head.

"Beats me."

Draco sighed, leaning against the back counter. "Never thought I'd say this, but we might just be lucky to have Hermione Granger's extensively annoying amounts of knowledge on hand."

* * *

Upon arriving back in the Manor, Draco noticed the kitchen was oddly organized. And bright. He glanced up in confusion, the once broken crystal lights now fixed and illuminating the large room. Confusion struck again when he realized the same had been done to the living room and halls. No longer did the curtains block the light, instead a dark forest green, embrodered with gold. The sharp crack in the mantlepiece had been fixed, and the paint on the walls no longer looked cracked and peeling.

_Granger must have done this...I can't blame her._

Silently, he slipped down the hall and into the library, as she often resided in there.

"Well it only makes sense!"

"But the...Mark? He isn't..."

Draco hadn't expected to see four girls sitting in the library, one perched on the table and three sitting in a circle on the floor, books scattered between and beside them. _Even the library is fixed..._

They seemed to realize he was standing there. Instantly, he recognized Ginny Weasley as she launched herself from the floor. Without even a warning, she had slipped over to him, wand pointed at his throat. "Who the hell are you?"

Draco stifled a ssharp yelp, backing into the wall. Ginny followed, pressing the wand against his throat. "Draco!" He yelped, terror causing his heart to run wild. "Draco Malfoy!"

"Get off of him, Ginny! For Merlin's sake!"

Draco breathed a sigh of relief as Hermione dragged Ginny back by her collar. Draco pulled the hood back, wishing for his heart to slow down. He surveyed the room, going rigid as he realized Pansy was perched on top of the table.

She gave a weak smile. "That's my cue to get the fuck out of here!" She blurred suddenly, no longer a girl but a cat, and darted between his legs and out of the room. Draco just stared at the remaining people in the room, Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger and Luna Lovegood. "Someone care to tell me why Pansy Parkinson is my cat, why my books are scattered all over the floor, and why Ginny Weasley is in my house?"

Luna looked up at him, bright blue eyes gleaming. "Sit." She gestured to the empty spot next to where Hermione and Ginny stood, Heremione hissing under to breath to the redhead, before Hermione forcefully pushed Ginny into her spot and sat down herself.

Hesitantly, Draco skirted around the group, and sat beside Hermione, eyeing the group warily.

* * *

Draco was terrified. If Hermione knew anything about the blonde, it was how he acted when he couldn't take the pressure from her prying, or when Crookshanks knocked a cup from the counter, the glass shattering loudly. It was all in the way his shoulders hunched, but were tensed and muscles rippling underneath is a flight-or-fight reaction. The way his silver eyed darkened to quickly to be human, and if you listened carefully his breath was short and erratic.

This was one of those times.

He didn't like strangers. She could tell by the way he eyed Luna and Ginny, the pregnant silence drawing on. When Crookshanks trotted into the room, Draco snatched the large cat up, cuddling the persian to his chest. Crookshanks, meanwhile, just went limp with annoyance.

"I'm listening, but I'm not hearing." He was staring at the ground, his pale, skeletal fingers buried in Crookshanks' thick fur.

"Right, erm..." Hermione blinked, trying to remember what he had asked. "Um...Pansy's a Animagus."

"I guessed that, Granger." Draco lifted his gaze to glance at her, but the exchanged stare didn't last long because Luna shifted in her spot, and Draco's head snapped around, and Hermione swore she heard his breath hitch.

"Right, um...she didn't...she was trying to stop you from," _killing yourself,_ "being reckless. That's all I know." There was a shared glance between Ginny and Luna.

"Right..." he said slowly, his gaze now trained on Crookshanks. "Why is there a Weasley in my house?"

A white lock of hair clouded Draco's face from Hermione's view, and irritably she wondered why the hell he didn't cut his hair. "Because contrary to your belief Weasley's are much smarter then you think."

Luna and Ginny seemed to find this utterly hilarious, but not even a shadow of a smile crossed what Hermione could see of Draco's gaunt features.

"And that leads to my last question." Draco released Crookshanks, but the persian curled up in Draco's crossed legs, a pit of orange standing out brightly against black. Draco reached forward, and with more gentleness then Hermione had ever seen someone use, he picked up one of the open books, closing it and staring at the spine.

"Death Eaters and The Mark, by Patrick Weath." He picked up his gaze, and stared at each of them. Then his gaze flickered to two books beside Hermione. "Dark Lords of the Ages. Dark Curses and Their Uses. I don't understand, what are you three doing?"

"Can we see your Dark Mark, Malfoy?" Ginny asked suddenly.

There was a drawn out silence. Draco set the book beside him, drawing into himself and pulling Crookshanks into his chest like a a child would a stuffed animal. "I don't have the Mark."

Hermione knew he was lying. And she knew why he was doing it. "Pansy's Mark is pulsing and glowing darkly. We wanted to find out if it is a fluke, or if something is going on, and wanted to compare her's to another. But she is one of the very few Death Eaters who escaped the Ministry."

Draco mumbled something into Crookshanks' pelt that sounded like 'Tori.'

"Do you speak Goblin?" Luna asked suddenly, watching Draco.

Draco lifted his head, looking at Luna through narrowed eyes. "No, Malfoy does not speak Goblin." Hermione growled, exasperated.

"What did he say, then?"

"None of your damn business, Lovegood." Draco snapped, and for a heartbeat, Hermione swore she saw a feral look in his eyes, gold flecking in his silver irises. _That scar..._

"How _dare _ you talk to my girlfriend that way!" Ginny sharp voice cut through the sudden silence, edging closer to Luna.

"Your _girlfriend?_" Draco gave a huff of disbelief. "W-what kind of joke is that?"

"Joke?!"

"Your both female! Is this some sort of sick joke?!"

He glanced at Hermione, and it almost pained her to see the disbelief and horror gleaming in his eyes.

"Fuck you, Malfoy. I knew you were still the same, arrogant, racist, homophobic arsehole you were in school!" Ginny stood, dragging Luna to her feet. She pulled the bemused Luna into a deep kiss, her arm coming around Luna tightly. After a moment she broke away, turned a defiant stare on Draco, and pulled Luna out of the room wish her.

Hermione was silent through the exchange, watching Draco as he stared in absolute horror as the two left. "It's ok to be gay, you know that...right?"

"N-n-no!" Draco turned on her. "It's not...it's not done like that! Woman are not designed to be with other woman and men are not designed to be with other men! It's not the way it works!" Crookshanks struggled from his grip, and sank his teeth into Malfoy's hand. Draco yelped, releasing the cat instantly.

"Some people are, though." Hermione murmured, staring at his hand as a thin stream of blood welled from the wound. "Being gay isn't a choice. It's the way people are designed. Some people like the oppisite gender, and some like the same. And it's fine. and completely human and normal." She met his gaze. "I know Pureblood's teach their children that gay people are freaks and it's a sin, but it's completely natural."

Draco was silent, staring at his lap, his pale hands trembling.

"Are you ok?"

Draco gave a soft, humorless laugh. "Since when do you care?"

Hermione frowned, then murmured. "I do care."


	10. Chapter 10

Draco hadn't expected it. Her voice was so utterly gentle and soft, as if she were scared of frightening a injured doe.

He tried to remember when the last time someone had actually genuinly asked if he was alright, but bitterness and longing and hurt welled inside his chest when he couldn't even recall a single time. So, his response came as bitter as his heart was.

The sharp, humorless huff escaped his throat, and he glanced at her. "Since when do you care?"

A frown crossed her soft features, her brows furrowing over her dark amber eyes. "I do care."

It was like a stab to the heart to hear those words. From Hermione Granger, nonetheless. "W-what?" He choked.

"I said, I do care. You're a git, but...you aren't...you aren't alright, Malfoy. And...it's...dangerous." For once the Gryffindor seemed to be at a loss for words.

"How can you tell if I am or am not alright, Granger? You aren't in my head." The words were so sharp and bitter, and somehow he couldn't keep his tone from wavering.

"I...I _saw_, Malfoy."

He snapped his gaze around like a adder to pin a freezing glare on her. "You _don't care about me._ Whatever you say, whatever your stupid friends say, I do not trust you or the rest of your idiotic Griffyndor friends. Weasel broke you heart, and I'm sorry. I know how that feels, and I wouldn't wish that on even you. But do not tell me you care when I _know_ you don't."

"What is your problem?!" She snapped as he rose to his feet.

"My problem?" Draco neared her in a single stride, dropping into a crouch in front of her. Her gaze was defiant, but he swore he could scent the fear coming off of her in thin waves. _Hate Werewolf senses... "_My problem is _you_, Hermione Granger. You, waltz into my house as if you own the place. You, bring uninvited guests into my house without asking. You, who haven't shown a shred of remorse or even a hint that you might care until _this morning_. That's my problem."

He didn't move as he watched the scowl cross her face. Then a smirk replaced it. A fucking smirk then told him she didn't give a hell about him or his opinions. "You let me live here. You said I could do what I want as long as I left you alone. And just because I might act like I don't care doesn't mean I actually don't."

"Oh, fuck off, Granger! That's has to be one of the lamest excuses of the century."

She leaned closer, the smirk still plain on her face. Her eyes glittered. But it dawned on him that her eyes weren't glittering with spite or loathing, they were hazy and glassy with exhaustion and fever. With her so close, he could feel the heat waves of fever rolling off of her, and he could scent infection.

"You have a fever."

Hermione jerked back suddenly, pressing a palm to her forehead. "This conversation in over!" She stood, stalking past him and out of the room, slamming the door closed.

* * *

Whilst Hermione had cleaned and repaired most of the Manor, one room was left untouched. The ballroom. And quite frankly, Draco didn't blame her for leaving the room to suffocate in cobwebs and dust.

Like how every room in the Manor had been, it was dark and broken and suffocating. The shattered chandieler that Dobby had set down to stop Bellatrix from murdering Hermione lay in a corner of the room were his mother had made futile attempts to repair the precious piece before her own death.

Blood still stained the walls. The floors. The table and chairs. Screams still echoed im the room, but Draco wondered if it was just a effect of his own insanity, or if the souls of those who had been killed still lingered in that very room.

He remembered Bellatrix torturing Hermione as clear as if it were yesterday. The way her body twitched and jerking in inhuman ways in effects of the Cruciatus curse. The way the blood stood starkly against her pale skin, snaking down her arm from the words engraved in her forearm. Mudblood.

He knew he should have done something. He loathed Gryffindors and the precious Golden Trio. But not enough to wish death or such inexplicable pain to them. But, like all Malfoys, he was a coward. Even Weasley was less of a coward then he, himself, was.

Draco glanced out the window as the sun dipped low in the sky. There was a soft thud of feet as Pansy darted downstairs, and he assumed Granger must have returned home from work.

He wished she hadn't.

He wished he had never agreed to let her stay. Or let Pansy stay.

But, anymore, he no longer had the will to fight with either of them. He pulled open the door, and slipping into the hallway, and heading towards the stairs. Granger was quicker, it seemed because she stopped dead at the top of the stairs as he approached, wide-eyed.

A book was clutched to her chest, her back hanging off her shoulder. Her hair was, for once, not frizzy and in a high bun, and her eyes were clear, the scent of fever no longer rolling off her. "Malfoy," she dipped her head hesitantly, but instantly regained her level-headed stature. She had spoken to him since Friday, and it was now Tuesday, except for the occasional hello or goodbye. And her notes.

She seemed to like the phrase "Please don't die or Andromeda will kill me, — Signed, Granger." Which was both infuriating and oddly reassuring at the same time. When he saw her briefly, he was always aware of her watching him, pity in her amber-brown eyes. _Stupid Granger and her stupid pity._

Then he noticed the book clutched against her chest. It was so old that the cover was almost completely faded and the spine was peeling. She held it with care, as if trying no to break it further. She then held it out to him, noticing him staring at it.

"It was in the library. It's old, but it's really good."

He took it slowly, taking care not to let his hand touch hers, and flipped it over to read the cover. In cracked, faded black letters, it wrote: '_Dawn by Lauren T.'_

"You found this in the library?" He jerked his head up to look at her. "Here?" She nodded quickly. "Yeah. It was shoved in the very back wall."

He glanced back down at it. "I used to love this book. I read it so many times, that's why the spine it like this," he drew a finger along the spine carefully. "I couldn't find it after sixth year, I thought someone threw it away."

For the first time in his presence, he saw her eyes light up entire. "It's so good! I cannot believe I haven't read it before. Rosie is such a interesting character, I don't think I can get bored of her. Sure she's a little brash and nit-picky and talks way to much, but—"

"Funny. I know someone just like that." Draco interjected her rambling. She proceeded to scowl at him, eyes narrowed.

"And I happen to know someone who is just like Jake. That someone is very tall, blonde, arrogant and annoying." She retorted.

Draco rolled his eyes, shoving the book into her hands. He was, though he wouldn't say aloud, surprised to find there was no bitterness or loathing in her voice. Though, when his gaze lingered on hers for a moment, he could still see the thirteen year old Hermione, so fueled with hatred, punching him. The way her eyes were no longer brown at that time, but a flaring deep amber. Somehow he still saw it, even now.

"Right. Well, I have a paper to write and dinner to cook, so I should be going." Hermione spoke suddenly.

"Right— what? Dinner?"

"I find it quite pointless that we each make our own food and end up wwasting it. So I decided we can each take turns cooking, since we are forced to live together. I hope you can cook?"

"I'm a Potion's Master, Granger. What do you take me for?"

"Mmmm," Hermione hummed, gliding past him. She tossed words over her shoulder as she walked down the hall. "Dunno. A Malfoy?"

* * *

IM SORRY LOL

Sorry it took so long to update. I'm sorry all this is boring. I have so many ideas in mind, but D and HR need to come to the point that they actually like each others presence and I'm having a hard time doing that lol.

so.

im trying.

sorry.


	11. Chapter 11

He was cold. Freezing. But not quite the physical chill that would come to one's mind at first. It was the feeling of freezing dread that crept up your spine, causing one's heart to run like a terrified horse. That cold trepidation that froze one's chest and made it almost impossible to breath.

He turned, forcing himself not to recoil as he met the feral red eyes. The gray-skinned face. The snake-slit nose. The slitted tongue and sharp, yellowed teeth. A woman. Tall, just a little shorter then his 6' self. Wild midnight curls that hadn't been brushed in ages, a stark stripe of white cutting through the mass of darkness. Piercing garnet colored eyes and pale, dirtied skin. Broken, yellowed teeth. Shredded dark clothing and a bent, gray wand.

The woman pursed her lips in mock sympathy. "Pretty, pretty, Baby Draco," she cooed, her voice the epitomie of the metephor poisoned honey. So sweet and dripping and high-pitched, like she was talking to a child much younger then himself, but dripping with malicious intent underneath. She said it so lowly and so slowly, yet it still set chills down his spine.

He forced himself not to flinch as she shoved Voldemort out of the way, the only person who could get away with it, and hooked a claw-like nail under his chin. "Daddy's home." She purred, her lips twisting into a wicked grin. "Lucius! Lucius, baby," she called twisting around, and beckoning to the door. Shadows drifted across the ballroom floor, the sharp _click, click, click_ of the dragon-headed walking-stick the only noise in the darkening room.

Bellatrix's gaze lit up as she backed away from Draco, and flung herself at Lucius, carressing the man's face with nimble fingers. Vaugely, Draco heard a scoff of disgust from Voldemort, and there was silence as the snake man stood. "Just get on with it, Lucius."

Lucius' arm was snaked around Bella's waist and he dipped his head to Voldemort's, and abandoned Bellatrix, gliding gracefully towards Draco. Draco shrunk against the wall, silver eyes meeting his father's blue. "Is what they say true?" Lucius hissed through clenched teeth. "You disobeyed Bellatrix's orders?"

Draco couldn't move as Lucius leaned forward, his rank breath gracing his sharp cheekbones. "Y-yes. Father, I'm sorry!" He whimpered, trying to pull away. There was a sharp snarl, a barking command, and all Draco felt was pain, Bellatrix's shrieking laugh gracing the background.

Then there was a loud slamming noise behind him. "Malfoy, get the hell out here or I'll hex your bloody balls off, I swear to Merlin!"

* * *

Draco was jerked awake suddenly by a banging on the door. Dusk sunlight filtered through the curtains, and he realized he had fallen asleep, papers scattered on his desk. He hissed, drawing a sleeve across his forehead, disgusted to find it was coated in sweat. Fucking nightmares. He stood quickly when Hermione threatened for the second time to hex a curtain part of his anatomy off, that he would rather keep. He pulled open the door, running a hand through his hair. "Yes, Granger?"

She was pacing, panicking by the looks of it. "Can you please apparate me to the Ministry? Ronald's hearing is soon and I'm going to be late!"

"Take the Floo, Granger, or Apparate yourself!"

"There is no more Floo powder, Malfoy, and I don't have a wand! I haven't had time to get one...I've been using Pansy's but I can't find it!" She turned a pleading gaze on him. "Malfoy, I know you hate me, but please Apparate me! I wouldn't ask this of you if it wasn't dire!"

"FFive minutes." And heslammed the door shut.

* * *

True to his words, Draco opened the door a little less then five minutes later. Hermione's first impression was that he looked bloody _terrifying_. Dressed in black slacks and dark tray dress shirt snd black tie, his hair and pale skin stood out starkly. It was blatant he was exhausted, dark circles under his eyes, his face gaunter and sharper then ever.

"Give me your wand." She demanded suddenly.

"Like I'm going to let you use my wand whilst I'm unarmed! I'm not a bloody moron, Granger!" He pinned his silver gaze on her, and she shuddered.

"Two seconds?"

"No."

"I swear I'm not going to hurt you."

"Two seconds, alright?" He snapped, slowly handing her his wand, though she could see his knuckles were pure white were they wrapped tight around the wand.

She took it tentatively, though it felt odd in her hand, she raised it. Almost like a lightswitch, he flinched back. "No, no, give me my wand back. Now, Grang—"

She flicked it suddenly, and he shrunk back, as if he expected to be hurt. "See, you're fine!" She held his wand back out.

"What did you do to me? Granger, what the hell?" He straightened, searching himself for a wound.

"Fixed your hair."

"What?!"

"It was ridiciously long. Now, Aparate, please."

"There is nothing wrong with my hair!" He viciously ran a hand through ssaid hair, scowling. "Cannot believe you cut it!"

"It looks mich better. Please Apparate me, Malfoy!" She snipped. She hadn't expected him to snatch her wrist, and Apparate almost instantly into the Ministry. Well, to the front desk anyway, where five Aurors stood.

They narrowed their eyes as Draco led her up to them. Though his head was held high, she could tell he wasn't comfortable in the situation he was in. "Who are you, and what is your business?" The front Auror snapped, wand drawn.

"Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy. Here for Ronald Weasley's hearing." Draco muttered, in the same monotone rasp he always used.

"Please present any wands, potions or magical items."

Only Draco had something. His wand, and he withdrew a small vile of liquid. "Veritaserum. Requested by Kingsley himself." Draco affirmed.

Hermione raised a questioning brow, but Draco spared her no glance.

"Cannot believe he trusts you..." The guard huffed under his breath. Hermione saw Draco visibly stiffen, and he clamped his jaw shut. "Take the potion. We will keep your wand, take the potion. Alissa, please escort them."

Hermione's shitty mood was instantly lifted upon seeing her friend, momentarily forgetting the Veritaserum and Ron. "Alissa!"

"Hermione! Draco!" She greeted both of them just as estaticly, but Draco showed no sign of recognition for the brunet.

"Right," he huffed coldly, turning for the door.

Alissa slipped past him, shoving open the door and leading them in. Hermione hurried to catch up with her. "So...what's he all about?" Alissa murmured.

Hermione glanced behind her. Draco was following, his head held down, but was still a imposing sight to see. It scared her to know the scars and anorexic body that lay beneath his clothing, though. "I dunno. He never said anything about producing Veritaserum for the Ministry. I suppose I'll ask him later."

Alissa hummed, leading them into the lift. Draco's nimble fingers crossed the number pad, as if he knew exactly where he was going. "Andromeda told me you're staying with him?"

"Against my will. But I haven't enough money to afford a new place currently, so...it works, I suppose..." Her gaze drifted away from her feet to Draco. She hadn't realized there were five other people in the lift, and Draco looked severely uncomfortable. When it opened, he shoved his way out as quickly as possible, followed by Alissa and Hermione.

"This way," he jerked his head down a corridor, hurrying. He seemed to know they were also late. Quickly, they abandoned Alissa as he quickly led her into the seat, ignoring her protests of wanting to sit with the Weasley's and Harry. "We're late as it is!" He huffed.

And he was right. Because Ron was alright in the center of the room, a tall woman standing next to him, wand in hand.

Instantly, Hermione's heart dropped, and she wanted to cry and leave the Ministry instantly.

"Shall we begin?"

"We shall. Dr—" There was a terrifying pause. "Draco...Malfoy? Present the Veritaserum?"

He stiffened beside her, and for a horrifying moment, she thought he would flee the stadium. Her fears erupted even higher when the crowd burst into shrieking accusations, and Ronald struggled furiously against invisble bounds.

_Oh no._


	12. Chapter 12

The noise was so vicious she saw Draco shrink back. She couldn't tell what was being said for the most part, but she caught snippets. "Death Eater in the Ministry!" "Un-bloody-believable." "Lucius Malfoy's son!"

"_**SILENCE!**_"

Hermione's heart rose as she saw Harry Potter stand up from were he sat with two other Aurors, commanding for silence.

"I will hear no more accusations against Draco Malfoy. He has been cleared by the Ministry themselves. The faults of his father won't define him as a person. Let the hearing continue, please."

Harry Potter was a hardened man. War had left him depressed, depression had left him hardened and often cold to others. While he still loved his friends, he didn't take anyone's shit.

Hermione watched as Draco stood, clearly uncomfortable, and slid past her, and down the stairs. He crossed the distance between himself and the tall woman beside Ronald in quick long strides, pulling the vile from his cloak, and handing it to her. There was a whisper in the front row of seats, though loud in the silent room, though no one seemed to hear it.

Draco did, though. It was a wonder he didn't snap his own neck how fast he whipped his head around to pinpoint who had spoken. There was no doubt that he was scary. His silver eyes were pale and bright, even starker then his pale skin and hair, framed by dark circles. The girl who had spoken shrunk back at his stare, but Draco just handed the woman the vile, and crossed the room once more, and sat beside Hermione.

As the woman silently uncorked the small bottle, Hermione's chest tightend. When Ron's dark gaze locked on her's, her throat closed, only a soft strangled whimper escaping. He looked ragged and awful. Exausted blue eyes pierced her own amber-brown, startling against his dirt-coated face. Dark stuble was visible against his face, his hair ragged and long.

As the Veritaserum was administered to him, she shrank down into her coat. She wished Harry was beside her. Or Alissa. Or Molly, or George or Luna or Ginny. Anyone but the towering and frightening Draco Malfoy beside her, and no gaze to share but Ronalds, who refused to look away from her, even when forced to drink the Veritaserum.

"What is your name?" The tall woman rasped.

Ron was struggling against the Veritaserum; though it was only a simple questions, he seemed to not want to answer any questions from the Ministry. "Ronald Anthony...Weasley," he hissed through clenched teeth.

"Is Hermione Granger your girlfriend?"

"Was." He struggled against the invisible bounds frantically.

"Did you physically ha—"

Hermione didn't hear anymore. It was to much. The blaring lights, the soft whispers around her, his cold, dull gaze. The _memories._ She found it hard to breathe or swallow, her heart beating erraticly. She was aware of someone dragging her out of her seat by the arm, and dragging her out of the room, but didn't know who.

"Granger. Granger, _listen to me._ You need to calm down!"

She wasn't aware of the fact her eyes were closed until she was forced to open them. She met the brillant silver eyes of Draco Malfoy, and found that they were both grounding and terrifying at the same time. "I can't!" She gasped, finding her voice. "It's to much."

"I know, I know, Granger, I—"

"No you don't!" She all but shrieked, her eyes hardening quickly. How dare he say he knew what she was feeling?!

"But I do, Granger. You have to breathe, alright? Just listen to me. Take this," he dug another small vile from his coat, handing it to her.

"No! What the hell is that?! I am not taking anything you give me!"

She regretted saying it, because she saw the hurt in his eyes, though it faded quickly. "It's...it's a anxiety calming draft. It'll help."

The pain in her chest was almost unbearable, her skin slick with sweat now. There was a feeling of utter horror, like something horrible was going to happen. "Granger, please take it. Trust me."

Did it matter now, if the potion was posionous or not? Not really. She blinked the dizziness from her vision, snatching the vile and downing it quickly. Rapidly, her vision cleared and the ache in her chest went down. Her legs felt weak beneath her, though, and she was sure she would fall if there wasn't a arm wrapped securely around her waist.

"It's alright. It's alright," he soothed in her ear softly. She looked up, and realized it was _Malfoy_ that was holding her. Quickly, she pulled away, smoothing her skirt and holding herself up as best she could.

"Granger?" He murmured. "Alright?"

"F-fine..." She stammered, feeling horribly lightheaded still. "W-what...what did y-you give me?"

"Anxiety calming draft. You were having a panic attack, Granger."

"Panic attack...right. I need to get by in there, now." Smoothing her clothes quickly, she hurried for the door. She heard Draco growl something behind her, but she wasn't paying attention. She strode through the door quickly, enough to catch the last of the Minister's words. "Five years in Azkaban. Take him away, boys."

Her heart dropped to her feet, and she stood, frozen. She was aware of Draco now behind her, but it really didn't register, her gaze fixated on the three Aurors taking Ron away. "Wait!" She sobbed, her knees weak under her weight. "Please wait...Minister..."

No one heard her pathetic cries, though, as the people flooded down the stairs and out of the room. She wiped her tears on her sleeve as the Weasley's, Luna, Neville, Harry,a unknown woman beside George, Alissa and Andromeda came hurrying towards her. The woman passed her quickly, hurrying to the man behind her, Draco.

"Tori?" She heard him murmur, but it was muffled as Harry pulled her into a hug without warning, his strong arms surrounding her comfortingly. "It's going to be ok, it's going to be ok," he whispered softly, pulling away slowly. "Are you alright?"

"Fine, Harry, f-fine." She murmured, drawing her sleeve over her cheeks again. An arrangment of Weasley's and friends shoved past Harry to hug her and reassure her softly, casting wary glances at Draco.

"What's he doing here?" She heard George mutter, though he was instantly silence by a warning glare from Molly.

"Mione?" Hermione looked up, shuddering, meeting Harry's gaze. "Mhm?" She muttered.

"Why is...he here, though? With you. Together. He sat next to you. And...why did you dissapear for a bit just a few minutes ago?"

"Oh..." Hermione dropped her gaze to her feet. "Andromeda didn't tell you." She mumbled.

"Tell me...what? Hermione, is something going on between you and Malfoy?"

"Oh _Merlin no!_" Hermione snapped her gaze up quickly. "No, not like..._that, _but..."

"But?" Harry quiered, tilting his head, his to long hsir falling in his face.

"Ron, well...you know, kicked me out..." She swallowed hard, shifting uncomfortablly. "I stayed at Andromeda's for about a week. But...fuck it, I'm living with Draco Malfoy."

Harry blinked rapidly, glancing at Malfoy, then at her. "Sorry, Mione. I think I heard you wrong..."

"I'm living with him. Staying at his Manor. It was Andromeda's idea, not mine."

"I'll hex the fucking git if he had even said a word t—" Harry hissed, glaring at the blonde.

"Harry, you are a Auror. Calm yourself and collect yourself and control yourself." She murmured, resting a hand on his shoulder gently.

Harry sighed, relaxing. "Sorry...he hasn't...he doesn't...he treats you alright, I hope?"

"He treats me like a human-being, at least." She mumbled, dropping her hand from his shoulder and shoving it inside her coat pocket.

"What does that mean?"

"He doesn't insult me anymore. Or taunt me, or use racial slurs. In fact...dare I say it, he's tolerable. And...the reason we went out there, is because I was...having some sort of...panic attack," she mumbled softly. "And he gave me a potion for it. He's brillant, actually. He brewed Veritaserum correctly, so obviously he must be."

"Well..." Harry shifted. "I'm glad he's alright, then. If you like, you can come stay with me?" He offered quietly.

Hermione glanced back at Draco. Oddly enough, she didn't want to leave the Manor. Yes, it was Malfoy. Yes, the place scared the shit out of her. But... "I think, for now, at least, I'm going to stay there. Find out the secret that Draco Malfoy is."

Harry gave a soft hum, and slid past her to Draco and the girl. "Malfoy," he greeted, extending a hand.

Draco looked away from the girl, and stared at Harry. He blinked rapidly, before extending his own hand and shaking Harry's. "Potter," he pulled his hand away quickly, shoving it in his cloak. "Good to see you." He nodded, giving a forced smile.

"Same here, Malfoy." Harry responded, though she could tell it was very forced and fake. Hermione came up beside him, glancing at the dark haired girl beside Draco. "Hi there...I um, don't think I've seen you before? Hermione Granger."

The girl smiled at her. "Oh, yes, hi there! Astoria Greengrass. George's girlfriend. And I work with this dimwit here." She elbowed Draco in the side, grinning, but he didn't return it, merely winced.

"Oh, wow," Hermione hadn't expected that. "It's, uh, nice to meet you. I wish it could have been under better circumstances, though."

Astoria gave a grim smile. "Me to."

She didn't get to say more, because Molly came up to them, it was obvious she had been crying, even though she tried to hide it. "Hermione, dear, how are you?"

"Oh, oh...fine, Molly, thank you." She murmured.

Molly wrapped a arm around Hermione reassuringly, before her gaze was averted to Draco. "And you, dear, are you well?"

Draco snapped his head up sharply, staring at Molly before glancing at Astoria. "She's talking to you, mate," she heard Astoria mutter.

"I...uh, f-fine, thanks. A-and you?" Hermione winced at the bemused and slightly shocked look on Draco's face, even though he tried to hide it.

"As well as I can be." Molly gave a weak smile.

"Good," Draco murmured awkwardly.

Hermione didn't know when, but suddenly they were all heading out of the Ministry, excluding Harry for Auror work, and outside after retrieving wands.

"Hermione, dear, will you be joining us at the Grimmauld Place, Harry's, for Christmas this year?" Molly asked softly.

"I, I would love to." Hermione forced a smile, nodding.

"And you, Draco, will you join us as well?"

Draco looked up from his wand in his hand quickly once more. "I...what?"

"Join us for Christmas? We'd be delighted to have you." Molly smiled softly at him.

Hermione surely hadn't been expecting _that._

"I um...I don't know. I may have um...work. I will see, though." She could tell he was trying to be polite, but failing.

"Well, we'd be happy to have you if you want to come."

* * *

Um

Hi

I'm sorry for last chapter, It was awful. i

probably wont be continuing this story

i dont really like it

let me know if you want me to continue or not in the review please.


	13. Chapter 13

Thank you for the feedback, guys. You are all to sweet. I will keep writing this as long asthe feedback stays positive. Please review and let me know what you think.

Enjoy the chapter!

* * *

Arthur, in almost futile attempts to try and lighten the mood, forced them all into Diagon Alley for food and treats. Whilst there was still the cold, brooding and ominous undertone in the air, it proved to be as pleasant. Once they had arrived, though, Draco and Astoria had slipped away from the group to who know's where.

Hermione saw that Molly was visibly upset over this, and did her best to comfort her, though she couldn't see why Molly was upset over a Malfoy leaving.

"He seems like a good boy, now. Much nicer," Molly had murmured.

"Right, like _Malfoy_ could ever be nice." George snipped coldly.

"You are also dating one of his cronies from school. Watch your tone," Hermione growled.

"Astoria is nothing like Malfoy. _Nothing_." Hermione never thought of George as frightening. Quite the contrary, really. But now, as she walked alone in Diagon Alley after everyone had departed, the glare of furious protectiveness in George's eyes _was_ frightening. _Good for him, though. I'm glad he's doing better..._

After Fred, people started wondering if the twin was going insane, seeing as he stayed in his apartment almost all day, and the walls were lined with mirrors. Ron had even said he swore he heard George talking to Fred one day...

With a sigh, she shook the thoughts of the Weasley's from her head, pushing open the door of Flourish and Blotts. The soft whispers from the few customers inside told her who she wanted to find was there. Suddenly someone tapped her on the shoulder. "Oh, Miss Granger! What a pleasure to see you again!" She whirled around to see the store owner, and nodded politely.

"Oh, hello. Yes, yes it's great to be here again," she smiled, unable to when surrounded by piles upon piles of books.

"Are you looking for anything specific, dear? Maybe a book on Vampires, or how about one on Unicorns?"

"Oh, um...no, thank you. I was actually just looking for someone..." she murmured.

"Anyone in particular?" The old woman asked.

"Um..." Hermione shifted her weight carefully. "Tall, blonde hair, pale, silver eyes, dark attire?"

The old woman's smile fell. "Be careful with that one, dearie. He's a Death Eater, that one. Deserve's a cell right in Azkaban with his father." With a withered hand, she pointed to the back of the store, before retreating.

Hermione shuddered. The woman's words unnerved her as she quickly picked her way through the store. While she disliked Malfoy, she didn't think he deserved Azkaban...quietly, she slipped around a corner. In the back of the store, down a dark pathway between bookshelves, she found him alone, head bent over a book.

He looked up before she even stopped at the end of the bookshelf, and looked right at her. "Oh. You."

"Nice to see you to," she gave a soft laugh, leaning against the shelf.

"How did you find me?"

"It's not that hard. Just follow the whispers of 'oh my Merlin it's Draco Malfoy the Death Eater! Better put him in Azkaban!'" She said sarcasticly.

"Oh. Right." He snapped the book closed, putting it back on the shelf.

"Where did Astoria go?" She asked.

Draco shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, his head slightly lowered. Even now with his hair cut shorter, it still swept across his forehead. "Went to the shop."

"Which shop?"

"Her shop. In Knockturn Alley."

"I see..." She mumbled. "Why...why didn't you stay with us for lunch?"

Draco glanced up at her, nodding towards the front door, and started for it, Hermione following quickly. "It felt wrong. You know I don't like the Weasley's, and they don't like me."

"Molly wanted you to stay." Hermione replied as they stepped out into the cobblestone rode. It was freezing, and looked as if it were going to snow.

"Yeah, well...I didn't want to. It felt wrong." He shook his head, casting his gaze up to the clouds as snow started spiraling down, gracing his long, dark lashes.

She gave a soft giggle as he looked back down, blinking. "Don't look up while it's snowing, Malfoy."

"Thanks, Granger, I think I figured it out."

She fell into place beside him, snow spiraling down to shower over the two. She didn't know why they were just walking down Diagon Alley, but the silence and calm was oddly comforting, better then the suffocating heat and stress of the Ministry or the cold bleakness of the Manor, or the feeling of having to act like everything is alright around the Weasley's. It was revealing, in all honesty.

A cold breeze clawed at her face, showering her with snow. She glanced up at Draco, but he didn't look at her, merely kept on walking. "Where are we going?" She asked quietly, breaking the silence.

"What, do you want to go back to the Manor?" He huffed, glancing at her.

"Never said that," sshe growled, rolling her eyes. "Just wondering why we are aimlessly wandering the streets."

Draco gave a soft questioning hum, glancing around. "Because we can, I suppose. I didn't think you'd want to go back to the Manor right away, seeing as it's...not the nnicest place..."

"It's a beautiful place, but there is just so much..." She frowned, at a loss for words.

"History and awful memories woven into the walls?" Draco stopped walked, turning to face her.

Hermione paused in her tracks, tilting her face up. "Yeah. That."

"I know how that feels," he murmured, his gaze drifting away and looking at the ground.

Hermione gave a soft hum of agreement. "Come on. We could get some drinks, if you like?"

Draco jerked his gaze up, meeting hers with a slightly startled expression. "I...what? Why would you want to get drinks with...well, _me?_"

"Well," she leaned her weight on one leg, tilting her head to the side. "Because I realize you aren't as much of a git as you used to be, and I suppose it wouldn't do harm to get to know you a bit."

"No, no," he shook his head furiously, giving a sharp laugh. "No, I'm not going into anywhere. Not with you. No."

"And why's is that? Oh wait, because I'm a _filthy little **Mudblood?**_" She snarled, scorn dripping from her voice now. His words hurt. Worse then she thought they would.

"No." He blinked, his voice softer then she thought it would be. "No, not because of that. You aren't...I should never had called you a— that. Do you know what people would say if they saw Hermione Granger with Draco Malfoy? What they would think of their precious Gryffindor Golden Girl, if they knew she got casual drinks with a Death Eater?"

She raised a brow. He couldn't bring himself to call her a Mudblood. And he was concerned for her reputation? "I really don't care what people think of me, Malfoy. So what if they think ill of me? How do you think I survived Hogwarts, not just with you taunting me, but so many other people? It was because I didn't give a single fuck what people thought about me after a while."

"I'm sorry," he said softly, wrapping his arms across his chest. It took her only a moment to see that his frail shoulders were shuddering with cold. "I really am sorry, Granger."

Her brows drew together, and she released a sigh. "It's...it's..."

"I'm not expecting you to forgive me. I don't want you to forgive me. What I did to you was so unacceptable and cruel, and I wish I saw that sooner, but I didn't."

"But your actions make up for it," she jerked her head to the bar just down the street, and he followed reluctantly. "You could have told...her...who we were. You threw Harry your wand. Maybe you were a entitled, spoiled, arrogant arse, but...What you did made up for it. At least partially."

"You forgive to easily, Granger." He picked his way around a chunk of stone taken out of the road. "You forgive Pansy, who tried to hand Potter over to the Dark Lord. You would have forgiven Weaselby, I saw the way you looked at him in the Ministry, and now you're fforgiving me. You should be careful."

"Some people deserve forgiveness." She swung the door open, flourishing her arm melodramaticly. "After you, Malfoy."

Rolling his eyes, he swept inside. "I believe it's ladies first, Granger."

"Whatever." The moment she stepped inside beside him, the bar gradually fell silent, heads turning to look at her and the tall pale figure beside her.

"Hermione?" A woman came from behind the counter, her brown fading into dyed green hair falling in ragged waves around her shoulders and heart-shaped face. No matter what form she took, though, Hermione would never forget the piercing blue eyes.

"Nymphadora?"


	14. Chapter 14

_Nymphadora._

Draco knew that name. From someone or somewhere. But to whom it belonged to, he couldn't place. The woman coming towards them was pretty, but not a face he could place. Hermione seemed to know her, because the woman snatched Hermione by the arm, shoved open the door and dragged her outside.

Tentatively, Draco pushed open the door, slipping outside. "But...you were dead," he heard Hermione whisper, her arms wrapped tightly around the other woman. "I...saw...saw you." Her breath was short, coming out in a sob.

"I know. I know I was dead. Because I saw Remus and Sirius and so many others...but then...I don't know what happened. I don't." The woman slowly puled away from Hermione, brushing hair from the shorter girls face. She looked up, then, and met his gaze.

Dead. The woman had been dead. But now she wasn't. It didn't surprise him as much as he thought it would. What did surprise him is that the woman just smiled at him as she pulled away from Hermione.

"Nymphadora Tonks," she nodded to him extending a hand.

"Tonks. Andromeda Tonks is—"

"My mother. Yes."

That's where he had heard the name. Now it made sense why he felt like he had seen her somewhere. He had seen her in _Andromeda._ "I'm...Draco Malfoy." He muttered, shaking her hand quickly before pulling it back.

"Narcissa and Lucius' son?"

He gave a uncomfortable, short hum of confirmation. "Andromeda's my aunt. Which means your my cousin. Who is supposed to be dead, according to Andromeda?"

Tonks gave a short laugh. "Yeah. I am supposed to be dead. And according to the Ministry I still _am_ dead."

"Why didn't you come back, Tonks? To Harry, or I? Or your mother?" Hermione demanded suddenly.

Draco watched as Tonks' face fell, a guilty look glittering in her eyes. "I...I couldn't...face them. I just..."

"You have a child!" Hermione growled.

* * *

The whole exchange was weird. And seeing someone _not_ regard Draco with wary eyes and stance oddly warmed her heart. But after Tonks said she had come back (whatever that meant, Hermione mentally noted that she needed to research this ASAP) just after the War, rage replaced the hope and warmth inside her chest.

Tonks had a child and friends and a mother. Yet she didn't come back to find them once. "Look, Hermione, I still have a shift to finish. How about I come to your place tomorrow and we can talk about it?"

Hermione seethed, but nodded tensely. "Right. Right. Floo to the Malfoy Manor tomorrow at twelve." She hissed.

Tonks raised a brow, but said nothing, instead judt hugged her and uttered, "I'm sorry, Hermione." Before pulling away and giving a nod to Draco. "See you around then, Draco." Before slipping back inside.

Draco ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. "I have so many questions, but I don't even want to know."

Hermione frowned, her attention now panning back to him, she could see his shoulders were stil trembling with cold, and it again reminded her painfully of the mental state the man was in. "Let's go inside, it's freezing out here," she murmured, pushing the door open and heading inside in front of him.

She glanced behind her at Draco as she made her way towards the bar table, hoping for a chance to speak with Tonks again. He cast wary glances around, before he realized she was looking at him, and he just nodded to the stools, and she smiled, hoping up gracefully onto one as he sat beside her.

* * *

Nymphadora Tonks watched warily as Hermione and Draco sat up on the bar stools, and she was still rather shocked to hear Hermione was staying at the Malfoy Manor. They couldn't be dating, could they?

"What can I get you two?" She asked, setting down a clean glass in the drain.

Draco looked entirely startled at her voice, looking up quickly. "Firewiskey." He muttered.

"I'll take one, too, please." Hermione replied.

"Granger, drinking Firewiskey?" Tonks swore she heard a laugh in Draco's tone as he looked over at the chestnut haired girl.

"Oh, shut up."

"Coming right up," Tonks murmured, getting to work quickly. What was once loathing and hatred and predjudice between the two was now kindness and dare she say respect and caring. And it was odd. She handed the two their drinks briskly. "Enjoy." She smiled before heading to the other end of the bar as a newcomer entered.

* * *

"Have you ever even had a Firewhisky before, Granger?" Draco gave a soft laugh as she stared at the drink before her.

She scowled at him, lifting the cup. She stared at it, before taking a huge drink of the glass. She wished she hadn't. Choking furiously, she set the glass down. "That's so fucking strong," she gasped, coughing.

"Yeah, Granger, someone like you shouldn't drink that much at once. Actually, no human being should drink that much in a single swallow." He pointed out, dark eyebrows drawn together. "Are you alright?"

She nodded, swallowed a strained breath. "Y-yeah." She gasped, nodding.

He lifted the drink to his lips, taking a sip before setting it down. "Don't do that again."

She merely rolled her eyes, taking a slow, tentative sip. It was strong. It burned her throat, but at the same time warmed her, and tasted delicious.

"So," Draco's nails were tapping almost anxiously against his glass, and she was aware he gaze was drifting around the room, as if listening to something horrid. "Nymphadora."

"What about her?" She murmured, staring into her glass at the amber liquid.

"How is she...well...alive?"

"I have theories. But I don't want to talk about it." She muttered, shrugging.

"But—?"

"I said I don't want to talk about it, Draco, please." She turned her gaze on him, her voice firm. She realized then she had called him Draco, instead of Malfoy, and it startled her.

"Sorry." Draco looked away quickly, staring at the table. Suddenly, he jumped, turning towards the door, and she didn't know why until she saw a man walking towards them much later then he did.

The man hopped onto the stool beside Hermione, ordering something she didn't recognize. She was awed at how early Draco heard the man, over the music and talking. Yet it didn't ssurprise her, only pushed her suspicions of him being a Werewolf.

"How did you hear him coming so early?" She hissed, leaning towards him.

"I just have good hearing." He muttered, shrugging. "I heard him coming because the floorboards were creaking. I can hear what the people by the door are whispering about when the door opens and the wind carries there words. I just have highly sensitive hearing."

"What are they saying?" She asked softly, curious.

"They're talking about me." He looked up at her, his pale gaze piercing. "I'll bbe back, watch my drink." Without another word, he stood, sweeping away.

Hermione frowned, glancing at the people by the door. She didn't have time to process her thoughts when a voice cut in. "Hi, there, beautiful."

She turned around, realizing the man who had sat next to her was talking to her. A flush rose quickly on her face. He was handsome. Tanned skin despite it being winter, gorgeously toned body, thick brunet hair and glowing blue eyes. "H-hi." She murmured softly.

"I'm Derek. And it's no question what your name it, Miss Granger." He sent her a dazzling smile.

She blushed further, ducking her head. "Nice to meet you." She murmured. He had a aura of kindness, and there was no harm in talking to him, was there?

But then he stood, hooking a finger gently beneath her chin. "I'd loved to get to know you better, Miss Granger. Why don't you come to my place?"

"Oh, um...n-no thanks." She murmured, pulling away.

"Why not, darling?"

"W-well..." Then she heard a voice. His voice. His arm was slung over her shoulder with out warning, his warm body to close for comfort.

"Is this a friend of your's, Hermione?"

She shivered as Draco's voice met her ears. It was low, a hint of warning in it.

"Hello." Derek straightened up, eyes narrowed, his voice filled with hostility.

"Come now, darling." Draco murmured, pressing a kiss to her head. She froze, wanting to flee but unable to. "I'd rather you'd leave my girlfriend alone, Asfaw."

The man spluttered wildly, horrified Draco had called her his girlfriend, snatching his drink and storming away.

Draco pulled away quickly, so quickly in fact that Hermione wondered if he thought she was poison.

"Are you alright?" He hissed.

"Fine, but what the hell was that?!"

"What was that? I was making sure you weren't going to be taken advantage of, Granger." His eyes flashed amber mixed with metallic silver.

Startled, she flinched back. "W-well...thank you." She murmured.

"Right..." Draco finished his drink in a single swallow, sitting down.

"Can we...leave?" She murmured, hastiliy finishing her drink even though she felt a bit wasted as it was.

"I hoped you were going to ask that. I can't stay here any longer." He stood, nodding to her and heading out the door, and he seemed much more relaxed once outside.

"Filthy Death Eater. You belong in Azkaban beside your father, you know that? Can't believe you would associate with a murderer, Miss Granger." A man growled as they exited.

Without warning, Draco snatched her arm, and Disapparated.


End file.
